


Have The Courage To Be Bold

by Haicrescendo



Series: Carry On For You [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: #reaponsibleadults2020, Accidental kidnapping, Alternate Universe, Gen, acquiring children accidentally on purpose, acquiring pokémon accidentally on purpose, and honestly kind of deserves it, hand waving canon because fuck it, local uncle is riddled with guilt, nurse song is doing her goddamned best, oops it’s definitely child abuse, piandao is the real mvp here, the result is somewhat less than satisfying, tiny Zuko has no chill, uncle finally gets to deck ozai the way he’s always wanted, well-intentioned but questionable judgement calls, when in doubt just leave the continent, zuko is just trying to keep himself in minimal pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haicrescendo/pseuds/Haicrescendo
Summary: [Zuko wants to cry. He drops his face to the floor and sniffles into the wood and a few tears slip out of him anyway.“Yes, you’re very fierce, little one,” Piandao tells Druk, very gently, with his hands up. “I will not hurt him.”Zuko stifles a quiet little sob into the floor.“Come, now. Off the floor, boy. Up, up.” Large hands grip Zuko by his upper arms and peel him up off of the floor, lifting him bodily and setting him back into his generic blue bed with its generic blue comforter. “Who did that to your face?”]Or,Zuko finds rescue from an unexpected source, is definitely not accidentally kidnapped on purpose, and beats up his fellow kids.
Relationships: Piandao & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Carry On For You [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599013
Comments: 185
Kudos: 2534
Collections: The Piandao Library





	Have The Courage To Be Bold

* * *

  
Zuko spends his first twenty-four hours after running away paranoid, neurotic, and trembling. He can’t make himself eat and he can’t sleep, and his eye hurts  _ so much _ , and he tries so hard to be still enough for Nurse Song to apply burn salve but he cries so hard the first time that she eventually can’t do it to him.

Zuko feels charred and burnt up.

Zuko stays at the Floral Village pokémon center for three days until he feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin with stress. Father could send someone any minute, any hour, any day to try and collect him and there’s very little he can do about it if he’s caught.

He hides, with Druk inside his shirt for most of it, for three days in a generic bed underneath a generic comforter.

Song’s Chansey brings meals when she’s too busy, and it’s easier to handle when he’s not having to deal with another human person. Song’s nice—nicer than he deserves, but Zuko can’t help but feel like she pities him.

He can only be a burden on her for so long.

On day three he’s burning up with fever, but it’s fine, he’ll figure it out; he’s got to get out of here. Zuko slides out of bed—

And drops to the floor with a hard thud.

When he comes to he hasn’t been moved but someone’s  _ looming _ over him, and Zuko flinches and drops his head, squeezes his eyes shut tight. He’s too weak to move and that’s it, now, he’s going to get dragged back to Vulca and Druk— he has to release Druk before Father  _ kills _ him this time—

“Settle yourself, child.” The voice that comes from above him is soft and deep and...familiar. Not in a bad way.

Zuko’s heart ricochets against his sternum and he heaves with the force of his own breaths.

“No one here is going to hurt you. Can you see? Do you know who I am?”

Zuko forces his good eye open and stares.

“...Master Piandao?” he whispers.

“Good, the fever hasn’t burnt out all of your brain cells, yet. Idiot child, you have an  _ infection _ . Do you have a death wish?”

Zuko considers the likelihood of getting hold of the lamp on the other side of the room and knocking the man unconscious for long enough to make a getaway, then rejects the idea immediately. It would never work, and he doesn’t think he has it in him to even get off the floor.

His head hurts.

His heart hurts.

And then suddenly there’s a warm, red blur scrabbling against his side and Druk, on all fours, puts himself between Zuko and Piandao. He’s so close that Zuko’s nose is pressed up against his flank, so close that he can feel Druk trembling in fear even as he shrieks and shows his teeth. His bent, still healing tail is held up in a threat.

Zuko wants to cry. He drops his face to the floor and sniffles into the wood and a few tears slip out of him anyway.

“Yes, you’re very fierce, little one,” Piandao tells Druk, very gently, with his hands up. “I will not hurt him.”

Zuko stifles a quiet little sob into the floor.

“Come, now. Off the floor, boy. Up, up.” Large hands grip Zuko by his upper arms and peel him up off of the floor, lifting him bodily and setting him back into his generic blue bed with its generic blue comforter. “Who did that to your face?”

Zuko says nothing.

Piandao eyes Druk and his bandaged tail and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. Zuko bolts upright and sways.

“It’s not his fault!” His voice cracks hard on the end. “It’s not his  _ fault _ .”

“Whose fault is it, young Zuko?” Piandao asks and kneels down on the floor by the bed, propping his elbows up on the mattress.

Zuko chews on his lip and doesn’t let the words come out. He knows that the fault is his.

“Who hurt you?”

Zuko can’t say it. Master Piandao isn’t a stranger, and he knows that he’s not a bad person. He knows that if he tells the truth, he won’t take him back to Father. The words refuse to come out of him, anyway.

The look on the man’s face says well enough that he already has an idea. It looks very similar to looking as if he’s about to be sick.

“You can’t stay here. You know that, right?”

“...I know.”

“You also need medical attention. That isn’t going to get better on its own. You could end up blind, or deaf, or dead from infection.”

Zuko knows this, but knows he can’t go to a hospital. Hospitals require names and parental consent, and he knows that the moment he walks into one, he’s done for. They’ll look him up, see who he belongs to, then ship him right back off to Father.

“Breathe, Zuko. You’re not breathing.”

Zuko’s breathing, he’s just breathing so quickly that it’s impossible to actually take in any air at all. Druk scrambles into his lap and glares daggers at Piandao. Zuko’s hands wrap around him on instinct, and he feels instantly safer.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Piandao tells him. Zuko looks up, narrows his good eye in suspicion. “We’ll gather your things and go to the clinic across town. They won’t ask too many questions. And then, if you’d like, you can come with me. I’m taking a trip to Hoenn in the morning and you’re welcome to come along.”

“...What’s the catch?” Zuko asks warily.

“The catch, boy, is that you do whatever chores I need you to do in a timely manner, that you are polite and respectful as best you can, and if you need something you let me know first.”

Zuko waits for the rest but nothing comes, and for a good minute all he can do is sit there and stare. That...that’s it? That cannot just be it. He looks desperately for the lie in the man’s face and can’t find it.

He knows what he’s going to do but there’s little relief in it, not yet. So when Zuko puts his small hand out for Piandao to shake, he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

The kid is an absolute mess. 

It’s not that Piandao doesn’t know this already just by looking at the boy for longer than ten seconds, but it’s sobering to hear it from the mouth of a medical professional whose fingers are seconds away from calling the police. Piandao talks her down from it, eventually, but it’s a hard sell, and it feels like a personal betrayal to not do it himself.

But Zuko is right, and Piandao is not an idiot.

He knows full well who messed up the boy’s face, and Zuko knows it too. They both know that Ozai is a slippery, powerful man. If he hasn’t reported his son missing; it’s best to keep him under the radar. 

They won’t win a court case, not when it’s so easy to turn the story onto the boy’s pokémon and a training incident gone horribly wrong. It’s clear that Druk, while steadfastly devoted to  _ Zuko _ , shows aggression towards people, and that’s all that anyone will see. Piandao’s conscience screams at him anyway, even though he knows that it’s the smartest choice.

“I’m a reporter,” the doctor says, voice hard. “You know that I  _ have  _ to. I cannot in good conscience treat a clearly abused child and ignore it. I  _ can’t. _ ”

On the table, back in his own clothes, Zuko shakes like a leaf. Piandao pushes harder.

“I know.  _ I know _ . And trust me, there are...circumstances. I would love nothing more than to make that call myself. But think, for a moment, who this kid could be. Who he looks like. You make that call and say his name and there’s a court case,  _ he won’t win _ .”

The doctor glares at him.

Piandao glares back.

“Make the call,” he concedes, “But say that it was a kid who came in alone. Say that he gave you a fake name, and that he ran while your back was turned. Imply very strongly who he could be. But at least let us get out the door first. I will not be sending this kid back to hell. Not if I can help it.”

And that, at least, is what works, and they leave with medicated cream for Zuko’s burn and an antipyretic for the fever.

Piandao’s conscience isn’t thrilled, but the way that Zuko’s shoulders droop and he allows Piandao to put his hand on his shoulder on the way to the train station does more to soothe than anything else.

Piandao is not always a nice man, but he likes to think that he is a good one, and no good man would have left that kid on his own.

“You need to at least call your uncle and let him know that you’re safe. He cares for you and has to be worried out of his mind,” Piandao tells Zuko on the train. The boy is exhausted and swaying where he sits, slumping every so often against Piandao’s side before he realizes what he’s doing and straightens again. “I will not go to jail for kidnapping, do you hear me, boy?”

Zuko doesn’t say that he  _ can’t do that _ , because he’s not sure what Uncle Iroh knows or doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he knows and just doesn’t  _ care _ , because he’s always been so kind, but Zuko isn’t his kid. Uncle Iroh’s only kid is dead and isn’t ever coming back.

Zuko doesn’t know if seeing Uncle Iroh would be a relief or what finally does him in.

He doesn’t know and he can’t trust it. He can’t trust himself.

So he looks Piandao in the eyes and nods, as solemnly as he can.  _ Yeah, I’ll do that,  _ is what Zuko says.

Zuko  _ lies _ .

* * *

Hoenn is  _ beautiful _ .

Zuko spends a good month waiting for Master Piandao to get sick of him or throw him back like a bad fish, but it never happens. He doesn’t ask much of him, just that he keeps his room clean and to tell him if he needs to go anywhere, and to always keep his phone on him and charged. Sometimes he has Zuko do chores around the house, or weed the vegetable garden, or put the trash cans out for pickup. 

He picks his martial arts and swordsmanship training back up again.

Master Piandao doesn’t lay a hand on him, and he doesn’t yell.

He doesn’t get mad at Druk for being out of his pokéball when it suits him, and he doesn’t get mad at Zuko for sleeping on the sofa for the first week with his shoes on instead of his bed.

Zuko doesn’t really know what to do with that.

His face eventually heals, but is never going to be the same. He miraculously keeps his vision and his hearing but the skin is permanently damaged and his eyebrow won’t ever grow back. Far from avoiding mirrors, Zuko seeks them out and forces himself to see it, stares until his head hurts with the force of it.

His face was nothing really special anyway.

“You know, stronger people than you would give into despair.”

Zuko frowns. Master Piandao doesn’t understand. It’s not like that, and he says so.

“What’s it like, then?”

“It makes Druk sad.” Zuko doesn’t know the extent to which pokémon can feel complicated feelings like guilt and shame but if they can, his Charmander has them in spades. “If I’m sad about it, it’ll make it harder for him. I have to be..” he trails off, trying to think of the right word, “Okay, for him. Because he can’t be okay for me right now.”

Zuko’s not sad, anyway. Not really.

He tries not to think about it too hard but when he does his blood burns hot with rage and a sudden, desperate need to return the pain he’s been given, straight to the source. It’s a powerful feeling, that anger. It makes him  _ stupid _ , and then too much of it leads straight into a panic he can’t handle.

The only good thing about having a gigantic, awful scar on his face is that it makes Zuko look way scarier than he actually is. He’s not  _ stupid _ , he knows he’s not that scary, because the only scary ten year old on the planet might be his sister in a couple of years.

But Zuko doesn’t like thinking about Azula, because it makes his stomach twist itself up in knots and he still doesn’t remember how to tether himself to his body sometimes. Sometimes, Zuko comes back to himself with Druk a heavy weight on his chest and bleeding crescents in his palms where his own nails have dug in.

Piandao isn’t a frightening sort of man. He’s gruff and grumpy but he’s kind, and Zuko finds that he prefers that to being babied. He wouldn’t know what to do with that, anyway. Master Piandao isn’t  _ nice _ , and that’s fine.

He doesn’t hit and he doesn’t yell and that’s enough. He’s steady and when he says something he means it, and when he says he’s going to do something, he does it.

The rules are easy for Zuko to follow, the easiest rules he’s ever had in his life.

* * *

Zuko is afraid for a long, long time.

At first, Zuko avoids everyone he can, restricting himself to Piandao’s property and the familiar areas around it. At first, he can’t imagine that Father would let it go, that he wouldn’t be storming the nearby towns and cities looking for his wayward son. That he wouldn’t look  _ wherever he had to _ , even on another continent.

But to do that, he’d have to admit that Zuko has run away, and then people would ask  _ questions _ .

Father is a bold man, but he is not that bold.

He’s regional champion, but he doesn’t have to stay that way. Zuko’s not  _ stupid.  _ He knows that what Father did was wrong and more than wrong, it’s illegal. If he got caught,  _ really _ caught, he’d be in trouble.

But Father isn’t stupid either.

Father won’t get caught, because Father won’t let anyone know that anything bad ever happened. No one will be looking for Zuko, because no one can know that Zuko is gone. No one will even care, and Zuko tries to convince himself that that’s fine.

He never really succeeds at it.

So no one comes looking for him and eventually, Zuko stops waiting for it to happen.

Eventually, he manages to take himself to the grocery store during the day, by himself, and run errands for Master Piandao to Littleroot Town and Petalburg City, during the day and by himself. Zuko’s not the same, but he manages.

Druk’s tail is never the same either. It heals but it’s always going to be crooked. Zuko’s just grateful that it doesn’t cause him pain, but it takes so long before he’s better. For a long time, the both of them flinch at nothing.

Eventually, Druk stops.

Zuko doesn’t.

It takes a long time before Druk wants to battle again. Zuko doesn’t push him hard about it. He doesn’t push him at all. It’s enough that he’s here with him, together. It’s enough. But Druk has a competitive, resilient spirit, and lets Zuko know, after a while and in no uncertain terms, that he’s ready.

Those uncertain terms may have been exploding out of his pokéball to attempt to maul an overly friendly stranger very aggressively asking Zuko for directions to his own hotel room on his way back from picking up groceries. Zuko’s full of rage and so tempted to just  _ let him go  _ but holds him back anyway.

They both have their demons to fight, it seems.

* * *

Zuko meets Foxglove by accident when he’s a month away from turning eleven, and by accident he means that he beats up another kid over her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Zuko demands, voice hard and doing an excellent job of holding back the shake of fury that threatens to take him over.

The other boy, older by a few years, drops the baby Vulpix to the ground and tries to shuffle her off into the bushes.

“Uh, letting it go? Mind your own business, dweeb.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

“Not that it’s your problem,” the boy says with a sneer, “But it’s because it’s useless? I wanted a male, and I wanted it to already know flame charge. It doesn’t. So it can go off and be wild.”

Zuko drags in a hard breath and feels like he’s going to choke on it.

“So you’re gonna just…abandon her? Because she’s not what you  _ wanted _ ?”

The boy shrugs and kicks his feet a little. Vulpix has crawled back out of the bushes and climbs on his shoes. She rolls over from the force of it and stumbles, falls over her own paws with an unsteady yelp.

Zuko snaps.

He launches himself forward and throws a punch that lands true, right in the other trainer’s jaw. He hollers and makes a swing at him, but Zuko is smaller and faster and full of so much righteous rage that he feels like he’s going to die and that makes him stronger and more ferocious.

“What the hell, man?”

Zuko snarls and tackles him to the ground, grabs his collar, and slams him hard into the dirt.

“What’s the matter with you?!” He screeches, voice pitching high and hurt despite the hot burn of anger in his blood, “What, she’s not what you wanted so that’s her fault? She didn’t ask for a stupid loser like you but she _needs_ you and you’re just gonna—gonna throw her away like she doesn’t matter?” He’s so mad he’s shaking but when the bigger boy finally manages to kick him off, he doesn’t make another try. 

“You’re  _ crazy _ ! Crazy!”

The other boy runs off and the only thing that Zuko can do is stand there and wait until he can breathe again. For a moment he considers chasing the other kid down, but changes his mind immediately when a quiet little whimper breaks through the silence.

Vulpix is a soft little russet lump in the dust, and when Zuko picks her up, he finds that she’s still slightly damp from hatching. Zuko’s so mad about it that his throat closes up and his eyes swim a little bit as he shrugs off his jacket and bundles her up in it.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to her, “I'm going to take you home with me. Don’t be afraid.” He settles her in the crook of his neck. “I’m going to take care of you.”

And he starts the long walk back home.

Piandao sighs when Zuko kicks the door open and stomps inside but says nothing, just goes and gets an extra blanket out of the hall closet and tosses it at Zuko. She’s dry by now but still needs the warmth.

Druk scrambles up onto the sofa and curls his body around the tiny Vulpix, and Zuko’s heart twists to see it. He’s already in love.

“She’s ours now, okay, Druk? She’s little so we have to take good care of her and keep her safe,” he tells him firmly and reaches out a hand to stroke a tiny, pointed ear that flicks when he touches it. She’s not even big enough for a ball yet.

Vulpix opens eyes that are still an infant blue and peeps at him, wriggles out of her blanket-and-Druk cocoon to nudge at Zuko’s cheek with her nose. He nudges her back very gently, feels a smile tug his lips up.

“Hi, baby,” he says. “If you’re going to stay with us, you’ll need a name.”

The name will come within the week, when Zuko nearly has a conniption because he thinks he’s lost her somewhere in the garden, and finally finds her wrestling with Piandao’s foxglove.

After that, he can’t call her anything else.

* * *

Zuko has his eleventh birthday, and it’s the best one he’s had since Mom left.

Piandao doesn’t make a big deal of it, just takes him down to the post office to update his trainer card and then out for katsudon. Katsudon is birthday food, he says gruffly, and after they’ve eaten, pops a cupcake in front of him.

It’s not anything big, but that doesn’t lessen the special-ness of it. Zuko has to hide his face in his sleeve and blink back watery tears until he can get himself together.

It’s a turning point, but he won’t realize that until he looks back on it in the future.

It’s the moment that Zuko mentally unpacks his bags and lets himself think, really and truly for the first time in nearly a year, that things are going to be okay.

* * *

**One year minus three days ago...**

Iroh wakes up and Zuko is gone.

He tries his best not to panic but fails miserably, because his injured nephew is missing and  _ alone _ , and  Iroh doesn’t have a clue where he could be. He scrambles to the window and looks, from the dark downpour outside to the puddles on the floor.

Iroh is a warm man, but he feels himself start to go cold.

He generally makes a point of not seeking out his brother, but he nevertheless barges into Ozai’s rooms regardless, slamming the door open with a crash. The explanation that Iroh has been given is that Zuko’s burn is a result of a training accident with his partner pokémon. The explanation that Iroh has been given is that the Charmander (Druk, which Zuko does not dare call him in front of his father) fled the scene in fear and abandoned his trainer.

Iroh does not believe any of it.

“Ozai!” He shouts, “A word!”

“You’ve had three already,” Ozai says from his chair. “Make the rest count.”

“Zuko is missing.”

“Missing?” Ozai asks. “Of course the boy’s not missing.” He eyes his magazine. “Foolish child’s always wanted to go on a journey.”

Ozai has always been a hard, cold man, and Iroh has never understood him. He’s never understood how his brother could be blessed with two talented children, disregard one entirely and be well on the way of ruining the other. To be this blasé...Iroh wants to throw him through a wall.

“A journey? For god's sake, Ozai, the child is  _ injured _ . Once the shock wore off, I was taking him to the  _ hospital _ . He’s obviously run away.”

“Then so be it.”

Ozai flips the page.

Iroh reaches out, snatches it out of his hands, and throws it against the wall.

“For once in your life,  _ listen to me _ . Don’t you care about your son?” Because Iroh would give literally anything to see Lu Ten again. Because children should be treasured, and Ozai does not treasure his. He treasures Azula as a tool, because she already emulates her father in all the ways he wants.

Zuko is too kind and too gentle. He’s grown taller but over the years, it seems like he’s gotten smaller. Is it his father’s doing? What has Iroh missed seeing, wrapped up in his own grief?

Iroh feels like he’s been in a dream— a nightmare, and now he finds himself coming out of it, to something even worse. 

“If  _ my son _ gave a damn, he would be here, with his family. He’s not, so he doesn’t. Is there anything else, Iroh?”

Iroh drags in a breath and, not for the first time in his life, resists the urge to absolutely throttle his brother. He regrets, not for the first time, not fighting harder for control of Vulca’s gym, despite not wanting it.

Power has made Ozai’s already uncaring temperament worse, and his nephew has, despite it all, been the one to suffer for it. 

“So you’re not even going to look for him?”

“Zuko will return when he tires of his little rebellion. Leave the parenting to me, will you? After all, I  _ do _ have two children. How many do you have?”

Iroh gives up on resisting his urge to absolutely throttle his brother and rockets forward before his brain can catch up, pulls back his fist. And slams it directly into Ozai’s face. The force of the hit knocks the man out of his chair.

Ozai’s hand twitches for his pokéballs and Iroh steps on it, grinding down with his heel.

“I promise you,” Iroh whispers dangerously, “One more word about my son and it will be your last. I’m leaving this house and I’m going to go and find yours, and hope that nothing else has happened to him. So help me, if it has…”

“You’ll what?”

“If it has, you’ll wish that you had never asked me that question.”

* * *

Zuko isn’t in the woods surrounding the property, and he’s not in Vulca’s pokémon center, and he’s not on the beach. He’s not in any of Vulca’s clinics and he’s not in Jee and Teruko’s curry shop, and he’s not in any of the convenience stores. Not that Iroh expected to find him there but he’s getting desperate and willing to take any line that might get dropped. 

He searches through the night to no avail, and in the morning he catches the first ferry across the channel to Floral Village.

The sleepy town is even sleepier at this hour, but the pokémon center will always be open.

The doors slide open and Iroh, despite being awake all night, enters with an energy that’s hot and painful and urgent. The nurse at the front desk is young and looks exhausted, like she’s been through the night shift.

“Can I help you?” She asks.

“I hope so,” Iroh replies, and squints at her name tag. “Nurse Song. I’m looking for my nephew. He’s ten years old, with dark hair and gold eyes, and—“ god, this is going to be a descriptor that Zuko will hear for the rest of his life, “A burn over his left eye. It might still be bandaged.”

Nurse Song goes very still.

“He needs help, and appropriate medical attention. He can’t—I need to find him. Please, miss. Have you seen him?”

Nurse Song swallows hard and shifts on her feet, directs her gaze to her Chansey.

And then, eventually, she shakes her head.

“No,” she says quietly, “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anyone like that.”

Iroh thanks her and leaves, and keeps searching.

Unknown to him, Nurse Song drops her head onto the desk and hopes that she made the right decision, thinking about the boy currently curled up in one of the empty rooms, still quietly sniffling with his Charmander underneath the blankets of his bed last she checked on him.

She doesn’t know his name or who he is, and she doesn’t know where he came from.

What she knows is that he’s hurt and scared and borderline traumatized, and so is his partner pokémon. When she checked in on them last, all she could see was a lump under the blankets that answered questions with one word answers except for those about his name, which got no answers at all. Song is a mandated reporter and will have to call this in but as long as he’s not in immediate danger, she doesn’t have to do it yet.

She’ll make the call if nothing changes.

She just wants to give him the chance to breathe, first. Song is a nurse, first and foremost.

Exactly five hours before her self-mandated cutoff time, the kid leaves with a stranger who had stayed the night before. Song wants to question him, make sure that that’s what he wants—but his body language stops her up short. He looks sick and miserable but he doesn’t look scared. His little Charmander is perched in his arms and the man, tall and dark and slightly unfriendly-looking, looms over him in a way that registers protective but not dangerous.

At least not towards the kid.

So Song lets them go without interrogation or drawing attention and wonders, again, whether she’s made the right call. She wonders if she’ll ever know.

* * *

Zuko turns twelve.

Iroh keeps searching.

* * *

  
  
The kid is kind and brilliant and motivated to a horrifying level but  _ god _ , sometimes he’s an idiot.

“Not a word,” Zuko grumbles, upside down and hanging by a single foot stuck in the fork of a tree limb. He’s dangling high enough that a fall will be minimally painful but majorly embarrassing, and Piandao is curious as to how he’s going to get himself out of it.

Druk frets from a nearby tree limb, flaming tail swishing in agitation.

“Druk, it’s okay,” Zuko immediately forgets his own annoyance and tries to sooth his pokémon, if only to keep him from accidentally burning down a tree with him in it. “I’m fine, baby. Just stuck.”

“And how exactly did you get  _ just stuck _ , Zuko?” Piandao asks, mostly to be annoying but with a fair degree of genuine curiosity as well. “This is a particular talent that you have.”

The boy’s face goes red and it could be from embarrassment or it could be from blood rushing to his brain. Piandao will let him suffer a bit longer before helping him down. Zuko crosses his arms over his chest.

“...There’s a nest,” he finally mumbles, “I wanted to see if the babies hatched yet.”

“And had they?

“Yes,” Zuko answers with a tiny, self-conscious smile despite his current position, “They’re  _ adorable _ , Master Piandao.”

“And did the adorable baby birds’ parents startle you off of your limb?”

“...Yes.”

Piandao doesn’t quite laugh at him, but he does take his cell phone out of his pocket (an ancient thing he barely remembers to charge and hardly knows how to use, and only keeps on him in order to keep track of the kid he definitely did not kidnap two years ago) and presses a button, starts recording.

“ _ Hey! _ ”

“Natural consequences, young man,” he tells him and does laugh at him this time, “Maybe next time you’ll make sure of your welcome or use a ladder instead.”

“Who climbs trees with a stupid  _ ladder _ ?” The sheer amount of offense in Zuko’s voice is palpable, and Piandao considers leaving him upside down a bit longer just because.

“Some of us like to keep our feet on the ground, and some others would rather just not frolic about the leaves like a precious baby Aipom.”

Zuko rustles angrily at the implication that he’s precious or a baby anything and Piandao cuts the video, pockets the phone, and helps him down with an appropriate amount of mockery.

“You gonna delete it?” The kid asks.

“No, I’m going to save it for when you’re thirty-seven and bringing home your first girlfriend.” Zuko sticks out his tongue. “Or boyfriend. Or equally delightful non-binary individual.”

“Ew! I’m not bringing home anybody!”

“Not for a few more years yet, you’d better not.”

Zuko catches Druk when he jumps off of his branch and makes a run for it. Piandao shakes his head and slips his phone back out of his pocket, watches the video again. It’s endearing, and charming, and definitely embarrassing. The perfect thing to be shared with someone who can appreciate it.

Piandao is generally pretty awful at keeping in contact with people, and he knows this about himself. He’s grouchy and unsociable and pretty much the only company he’s learned to tolerate is that of the boy he  _ definitely did not kidnap _ two years ago, but he does still have friends, even if they accept that they’re just never going to hear from him. 

Piandao must have misjudged Zuko’s relationship with his Uncle Iroh, though, because they clearly don’t speak much and that’s the only explanation for why the man has yet to visit  _ at all _ in the span of two years. Piandao made it clear that he was welcome but wanted that to be Zuko’s choice to make. He’d had enough of people making decisions for him— that was one he deserved to be able to make on his own.

So Iroh never came, and Piandao tried to keep his opinions about it to himself.

He still has the old dragon’s number, though, and on a whim he loads the video into a message and sends it with the caption of  _ your nephew reaps what he sows _ .

Piandao expects that to be the end of it.

He doesn’t expect the phone to almost immediately start ringing or the funny little sinking feeling that opens up in his gut that tells him, quite plainly, that he may have just opened a can of worms that can’t be closed back up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY NOT SORRY FOR CLIFFING YOU.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please drop me a comment and let me know! If you’d rather scream at me on tumblr, you can find me @sword-and-stars. <3


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